And The Call Came

A Homage

Venkataramu my Chickappa passed away on 17^th August giving us a warning of no more than a few hours. He was 82. It was an end that he would have wanted. A seer’s upright life and a soldier’s quick death.  

Sri S. Venkataramaiah worked with the Rourkela Steel Plant. He belongs to a generation that starts career at an institution and remains loyal till retirement. Post retirement they shifted to Bangalore and that is when my association with him became deeper. Of late he read my blogs regularly. And had a word or two in agreement or appreciation or dissent. He suggested topics and shared anecdotes.

I wish I had written this post 10 days ago.  This is for you, Put-Tata.



S Venkataramaiah



He has a lot of love to give and a large heart to give it from. But he does not cling. That sets you free and only makes you love him more.

He never holds back a smile. It touches his lips, lights up his eyes. His hands move. And then his whole body breaks into a wide grin.

He is wise and has sound suggestions to make. But he does not push them down your throat. With a take-it-or-leave-it spirit he passes on a gem that catches your attention and sparkles with promise.

But tell him to come with you for a vacation and he rubs his forehead, wrinkles his nose and shakes his head firmly. No. You people go. He says.

An ardent follower of the Shankara channel, Facebook and You-Tube (for classical renderings) my uncle is a man of many generations. Born two decades before Independence, he grew up in an era when the post came once a week on a cycle-with-bells and the mouse was something that ran into dark corners.

Post retirement he absorbs the many inventions of the digital world with aplomb; being active on the internet with Facebook and e-mail and Skype and Blog.  

That does not diminish his penchant for the print world. Comfortable with English and Kannada, both my aunt and uncle always have a book to read and a book to discuss. Their list of books to buy and the date for next visit to Ankita Pustaka, a book house in Basavanagudi, is always on the to-do list.  

His love for sweets, his hasty bites into fried food (read kodbale), his liking for jam on bread (read plum chutney), his favourite place on the sofa (that I invariably occupied), his not more than three sentences on the phone, his updates on the serial with the bus-hugudi, his indulgent posing for photographs and his live-in-the-NOW attitude, I will hold close to my heart.

Always.

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Have you crossed the river, to be with your sister and brother?